


Matchbook

by etgoddess



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 21:10:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14922887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etgoddess/pseuds/etgoddess
Summary: In the coldest flint there is a hot fire.





	Matchbook

**Author's Note:**

> Damon's P.O.V. Inspired by 2x08 "Rose" and Damon's progression back to the world of the living...or at least, emoting. Music credit goes to Andrew Belle's "In My Veins".

If he recalls correctly

_(and he does—he is always right)_

This was never what he wanted.

_(“She’s gone.  I want it over.”)_

He had plans

_(he knows better now; everything breaks)_

And then he had revenge and the driving will to punish and pillage and take, take, take

_(the way it was taken from him, but it doesn’t bring it back)_

And he embraced his new life

_(un-life?)_

With the same fervor he’d embraced football and shunned Confederate service.

 

He has been more than a little unhinged

_(He especially likes that word.  It sounds volatile, dangerous, unstable.)_

For 145 years; anyone who’s met him can attest to that.

People say goodbye and the decades tick past but his plan remains unchanged. 

He has marched along the only path he knows he can rely on. 

_(His own.)_

He doesn’t _feel_ so it doesn’t bother him; his father leaves him, his friends leave him,

_(Death is no longer a certainty in his world)_

His brother leaves him. 

He almost ended it before it began

_(slipped the ring off his finger and the sun is just…there…)_

But Emily was watching and he promised her.

_(There once was a Damon Salvatore who kept his promises.)_

He fakes it and it gets easier. 

He trudges through each day

_(sun up, sundown, again)_

And pretends to be cold, unfeeling

_(colder, heartless)_

Turns it into a game because he is good at games like he is good at football; because it is hard work and it keeps him busy and he can’t _think_ if he’s busy, until numbness registers

_(it’s in his veins, it’s in his mouth)_

 

And then he is killing. 

Killing because agony and suffering and anguish and fear are potent and permeable and they take him in and bog him down and burn him through. 

But he _feels_. 

_(For a split second, before he is a monster, he is human again.  He feels.)_

It is ecstasy. 

He does it again

_(and again and again)_

and again

And he builds a tolerance

_(singe your fingers and the skin thickens)_

But he can’t give this up

_(and he blames Stefan and Katherine and his father and Emily and he is so angry)_

So he tries harder

_(he feeds the rage—steeps it in his pain and wrings it out over his sorrow)_

His teeth sink into flesh next time like a punishment. 

He trades efficiency for cruelty

_(and he gets it back, that feeling)_

The horror breeds with loathing in the back of his mind and he drinks it in, he craves it. 

This is his own personal heroin

_(his own personal hell)_

And his tolerance builds. 

And he escalates. 

_(He can feel.  He remembers being human.)_

It’s in his veins, it’s in his mouth. 

 

He couldn’t save them. 

_(This is a blanket statement; there have been many ‘them’s’ in 145 years.)_

He can blame Katherine and Stefan and Madame Wolf

_(nobody here’s perfect)_

But he can’t fool himself when it is quiet in the morning and the guilt seeps in to drown the day. 

_(I have a secret.)_

Elena may look like the succubus who ruined his life

_(and death; persistent bitch)_

But it is fine, fair Bonnie Bennett who brings him back. 

_(I miss being human.)_

Elena excuses his behavior and Stefan ignores it and the rest of the known world is terrified by it but the Judgy Little Witch is angry. 

He thrives on this, provokes the hate, digs a little deeper, finds the hurt, draws it out. 

She is a match in the large, dark pit of his bullshit existence. 

_(She’s the whole damn matchbook.)_

Just when he thought he was out of ideas

_(you can only get so heinous with murder scenes before your creativity runs out)_

He can taste the disappointment in the air and touch the expectation in her eyes.  She says he is a monster and for the first time in 145 years he doesn’t want to be.  He is fond of the Damon Salvatore she requires him to be. 

_(Evil is an excuse for weakness, Homicidal Vampire.)_

It’s in his veins, it’s in his mouth

_(he thought she was Emily, honestly)_

And he _feels_. 

_(Sometimes he can remember feeling human.)_

And he wants to hear his name from her lips so he tries. 

And suddenly it is not hate that grounds Damon Salvatore.  And he can breathe a little easier around the chains of his past. 

_(He finds himself sorry and grateful and saying ‘thank you’ and meaning it for the first time since they invented the automobile.)_

And he keeps up appearances with his tough guy exterior but he knows it’s fracturing, fragmenting,

_(I’m sorry Rose.)_

Bonnie isn’t Emily but she is the only thread he has left to the man who keeps his promises.  He is a good man.

_(I’m sorry Sheila.)_

He drinks in the bickering and banter and it drives him on.  It fills him up and he wants more, he craves it. 

She’s in his veins, she’s in his mouth. 

His tolerance builds. 

And he escalates. 

_(He can feel.  Sometimes he feels alive.)_

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/reviews are welcome!


End file.
